Gwen Moffat lives in Cumbria. Her novels are set in remote communities ranging from the Hebrides to the American West. The crimes fit their environment, swelling that dreadful record of sin in the smiling countryside cited by Sherlock Holmes.
Here we have a big read, a little heavy for bedtime but the antithesis of vulgarity.
Murder is out (almost), bad language notably absent, and although we start with drugs the theme is positive, far removed from deprived communities and needles in back alleys. Good manners prevail and on that score the twin backgrounds, of cop shop and family life, apparently so diverse, are remarkably similar in character. Ostensibly the domestic setting is dominated by Sir Julian Warwick QC, while his son, William, is a Detective Sergeant in an elite drugs squad dedicated to the twin goals of taking out an affluent user and putting his supplier behind bars. The resulting campaign, plotted in the cop shop, commented on and elucidated by the affectionate Warwick family – all lawyers - is conducted in dialogue reminiscent of an old-fashioned romantic novel.
Police informers abound, providing an element of suspense for those readers aware of the potential fate awaiting informers, but suspense pales before the charm of background. Every tryst and meet is held in familiar surroundings: the Tate, the Science Museum, the Tower of London – all complete with tour guides’ spiel. Cops and lawyers dine at fashionable hotels and restaurants; the milieu simulated so precisely that one clue is dependent on the price of Best Beluga Caviar from Fortnum and Mason.
As in real life there is a lot of boredom in any fictitious investigation particularly where surveillance is a major feature. Archer doesn’t skip this but balances it with romance. We follow William and his partner, Beth, through the preparations for their wedding, the ceremony, the honeymoon in Rome (intricate detail of the ceiling in the Sistine Chapel); then through the pregnancy, birth and naming of the progeny.
Meanwhile back at the cop shop, the elite squad goes about its goals not only of apprehending one villain in the act of providing illegal drugs at a party, but of locating and identifying the one called the Viper, who produces the stuff. At this point one is puzzled why a godfather who takes delivery of huge shipments of cocaine should need to devote space and time to cultivate and process marijuana, with all the infrastructure that that entails.
However, police raids are nicely done, perhaps less meticulously than the court scenes (most of the family participating here). The climactic action is presaged by a speech from the Commander emulating that on the Field of Agincourt: spurring his troops with the assurance that success will mean they can in future” tell tales of heroic deeds performed tonight that will become part of police folklore”. And the curtain rises on the penultimate drama complete with a double-decker bus, tower blocks, helicopters, two sniffer spaniels and the hunky black cop falling off the battle bus and spraining his ankle.
Amusing, but the final court scene is redeemed by guile. One for the American market.
